ROBERT PALMER : Music & Style

Titre : Finding My Voice: My Autobiography

Auteur : Elkie Brooks

Date de publication : 2012

Editeur : The Robson Press (UK)

Type : Essai

Les mémoires de la célèbre chanteuse anglaise qui partagea la scène avec Robert Palmer au début des années 1970 au sein des groupes Dada puis Vinegar Joe.

EXTRAIT

Mum And Dad

Knowing the hardship and suffering that some of the world’s best singers have endured in order to succeed in the music business – singers like Ella Fitzgerald and Billie Holiday who very much influenced me – I would love to be able to start by saying that my upbringing was tough and made me the artist I am today; fortunately for me, that couldn’t be further from the truth. My childhood, to all intents and purposes, was very comfortable and, as it turned out, my struggle and suffering were to come much later in life.

I was born on 25 February 1945 at 1 Castleton Road, Broughton Park, in Manchester; the third and last child of Vi and Charlie Bookbinder – two fine members of the Jewish community in Prestwich … well, at least on the surface.

Having two sons, Ray and Tony, my mum always wanted a girl, but I nearly didn’t come along at all. After my brother Tony was born on 28 May 1943, my mother was advised not to have any more children because of her poor health, but a year later she became pregnant again. On previous advice she agreed to sign abortion papers, but she became increasingly confused and upset about the decision, especially as she felt pretty well in herself. She decided to seek advice from her GP, Dr Cupman, who was a German refugee and a good friend. He convinced her that she could have the baby safely. More importantly perhaps, he told her she was going to have a baby girl. Without Dr Cupman’s counsel, I’m pretty sure that I – Elaine Bookbinder – would not have been born.

The story, of course, goes back much further, but sadly my mum was always vague about her past, so I really have very little knowledge of her life before meeting my dad. Luckily, I’m much more familiar with Dad’s past. His parents, Franklyn Bookbinder and Minnie Wientroube, were both brought to Britain by their parents from Gdańsk in Poland around the turn of the twentieth century. Together with hundreds of other Jewish families they fled the pogroms – organised massacres – and sought refuge elsewhere. Despite an improvement in attitudes towards the Jews in Poland in the late 1890s, my grandparents believed it was only a matter of time before things would change for the worse and therefore it was better to leave while they were still able to.

I recall my grandmother telling me that when her parents first arrived here, they thought they’d arrived in New York; it must have been quite a surprise when they realised their boat had actually docked in Hull and not ‘The Big Apple’. The unfamiliar accents and architectural surroundings were far removed from what they had left behind. From the moment they boarded the boat they sacrificed their future to an unknown destination – all in the hope that they would find a better life than the one they’d left behind.

In 1911, my grandfather Franklyn met and married Minnie; shortly after, he opened his first kosher bakery ‘Bookbinder & Goldstone’ in Cheetham Hill, Manchester. He was a bit of a rebel and was refused kosher certification by the ‘beth din’ – the Jewish religious authorities. He had no doubt been spotted in a pub enjoying a few beers, which of course, wasn’t the done thing for an Orthodox Jew as you had no way of knowing whether the beer was kosher or not. By today’s standards this may seem a bit harsh, but while Franklyn practised Orthodox Judaism when he was at work, it is clear that he occasionally slipped when he wasn’t.

This, however, didn’t hinder him or his professional reputation and he made a great success out of his business. Franklyn and Minnie’s second child, my dad – Kalmon Charles ‘Charlie’ Bookbinder – was born on 14 May 1915, shortly after grandfather moved the business to new premises in Bury Old Road, Prestwich, and dropped the ‘Goldstone’ from the shop front and replaced it with ‘Son’.

My mother Marjorie Violet ‘Vi’ Newton was born on 29 August 1914. Despite being called Newton she told everybody her maiden name was Newman, which I think was because it sounded more Jewish. She was trying to hide the fact that she came from a very Catholic background, which, of course, I only found out after she died. While Mum had never been that forthcoming about her early life I remember her telling me that her mother, Maud Newton, was born blind in one eye. It was her parents’ belief that this would limit her chances of ever finding a husband. And, although I never met my grandmother, I often wonder whether I got my musical talent from her because she was so passionate about music. Believing she wouldn’t be able to rely on getting married her parents encouraged her to nurture her talents so she would be able to support herself independently. That must have been very unusual for the time. But they clearly knew a thing or two because Grandma won a scholarship to study music in Vienna. There she was classically trained and went on to become a concert pianist and violinist. Apparently, she used to give concerts at all the halls in Salford. In fact a few years ago I was asked to be patron of one hall where my grandmother used to play concerts.

Mum lost her father in the First World War and her mother remarried. Mum never took to the new man; in fact, she took an immediate dislike to him. Mum lived with her grandmother in Fleetwood, near Blackpool. When she left school in the 1930s she moved to Bury New Road, Strangeways, Cheetham Hill, and found work with a local Jewish family. This is where she met my dad, Charlie.

Despite Dad’s strong Jewish faith, they got married at the local registry office in 1937. Unsurprisingly, considering the circumstances, it was a modest affair and they managed to keep things fairly quiet for a year until they got married again ‘properly’ in a religious ceremony at the United Synagogue, Leamington Road, Blackpool, on 4 January 1938. My brother Ray was born seven months later – illegitimately by Jewish standards – on 18 August 1938.

Raised a Catholic and then marrying a Jew had major implications for Mum as she had to deal with converting to Judaism. I think this might partly be the reason why she was reluctant to speak of her life pre-Dad. There’s a Jewish concept called Magae which, at that time anyway, required anyone converting to Judaism in Orthodox circles to distance themselves from things of their past that were not of the Jewish faith. Maybe Mum was obeying the custom, but then again, I’m sure she wanted to fit in with Dad’s family, the business and the community. This must have been difficult for all concerned, but especially for Mum. The funny thing was that everybody else knew she wasn’t Jewish apart from us: it must have been a bit of a scandal at the time.

I think another consequence of the Magae might have been her relationship with her brother and sister. It may also explain why I never met either of them. My brothers Ray and Tony, however, met Uncle Eddie once when they were mourning my mother years later in 1989, practising what is known in Judaism as ‘sitting shiva’, the tradition of seven days of mourning. I think Eddie was a Dominican monk who led a solitary life in a monastery – whether that was true I don’t know; it could of course just have been an excuse to avoid his name coming up in conversation at home.

My mum’s sister is quite another story and, to this day, a source of great intrigue to me. As a young girl, I remember a picture on Mum’s bedroom mantelpiece of a wonderfully glamorous woman with a large cross around her neck. She was beautiful in her black sequinned leotard and long Crystal Gayle hair. I imagined she was the envy of all women and the object of every man’s desire. I was transfixed by this image, but somewhat perplexed; why did my mother have a picture of a woman wearing a crucifix? And then there was the skimpy attire and the big hair. When I first asked who she was, Mum said she was her sister and that she was a trapeze artist in a circus. You can imagine my awe: how adventurous and romantic it seemed.

Mum never elaborated beyond those words; she wouldn’t be drawn, no matter how I tried. I later learned from my brother Ray that our mysterious aunt had visited on a couple of occasions, arriving in true star style in a huge American convertible. My mum apparently was very hush-hush about it, not wishing to attract unwanted attention from the neighbours. It seems our auntie was whisked into our house as quick as she was whisked out.

I have little doubt that my mother loved her sister but their lives were obviously worlds apart. Perhaps there’s another explanation: maybe my auntie was a stripper or something like that – that certainly wouldn’t have been good for the family’s reputation! Whatever the truth, I was – and still am – fascinated by the mysterious woman in the picture on the mantelpiece.

That’s really all I know of my mother’s past. She played such an important part in my life and I would dearly love to know more about her.

Voir aussi : 

• Vinegar Joe: They Want To Be Top Of The Pops  (Record Mirror - 1972)
• Elkie Brooks Remembers Singing With Robert Palmer (Telegraph Magazine - 2010)
• Hello Goodbye: Elkie Brooks And Vinegar Joe (Mojo - 2017)
• The Story Of Vinegar Joe (Classic Rock - 2019)